Harriet Jones, Prime Minister
by Groovy Whovie
Summary: Have you ever wondered what happened after the 10th Doctor suggested Harriet Jones looked tired? I dreamt this bit and just had to write it.


"I'm Harriet Jones, Primer Minister. Surely you understand why I'm needed elsewhere!"

"Ma'am, you're Harriet Jones, Prime Lunatic. Do you mind? My shift ends in two hours, could we make it as uneventful as possible? I wouldn't mind a nap, the guy next door thinks he's a werewolf. Been nothing but trouble. What with there being a full moon tonight and all."

He closes the door.

I am left all alone again.

I stare at the plain, bland room, my home for the last two months.

How could the mere suggestion that I am exhausted force me into retirement in a mental hospital? It's torture, being sane and locked up, when the people of Great Britain need me.

I hesitated to brand the Doctor as dangerous, and yet I find myself robbed of my place by a mere rumor sparked by this man. This alien.

I should never have hesitated to declare him a public enemy in the first place. It is aliens that have menaced Earth these last two years.

We cannot sit idly by. I cannot sit idly by, in a lumpy mattress, eating hospital slop! We are under threat!

My door opens swiftly, as John appears with a syringe –it appears I have yelled these last words and caused a commotion. Only now do I notice the other patients at the ward yelling and running in terror.

My vision blurs and sleep comes swiftly, unwelcome as I meekly thrash against the night nurse in vain.

I wake up a few hours later. Or is it morning already? I've been placed in solitary confinement once again. I shudder when I imagine the lecture from the attending psychiatrist tomorrow. I am sure his condescending tone and empty threats impress one of the weak-minded persuasion, but they fall flat on one as sharp as myself. It appears sanity is an unwelcome trait in this hospital, where absence of all connection with reality is the only weapon against mind-numbing boredom and desperation.

Out of the corner of my eye I see something on the padded wall move. I turn to see a black slot close and disappear altogether, making a quiet, metallic grunt as it slides shut. I freeze, horrified by the thought that I have finally become insane, my heart racing and thundering in my ears. But I heard it. Surely hallucinations are not this real, are they?

The room immediately feels hot. I begin to frantically bang at the door, begging to be let out, only for the padding to drown my voice and my pounding fists. I make one final, undignified high-pitched yell that sounds foreign to me, as if it had come from a child in the middle of a tantrum at the supermarket. I've been stripped of the last of my dignity.

I softly begin to sob, my shoulders sagging against the walls as I wipe the pouring mucus on the sleeves of my robe.

At least they have spared me the straight-jacket, I say out loud. I snort, despite myself. Then I begin to laugh in earnest.

"Now, now, surely you cannot be the famous Harriet Jones, Primer Minister, that I've read about in history books. You seem positively disheveled, every bit as insane as they claim."

I swiftly crane my neck and see a woman peering into the room through a slot in the padded wall. There is something utterly terrifying in her appearance, but I can't pinpoint what. Perhaps it is the black frame that encases her face, offset by the white background. Her eye patch and her black clothes make her look like a modern pirate, but her wild hair and devious smirk make me think she is far worse. A mercenary, perhaps.

A mercenary peeking into my private cell in the Shelbourne Institute for her own amusement.

"Now, don't look so alarmed, I've only come because I felt you needed a bit of help. I could just as easily pop out of here."

"I expected something a bit more cryptic from a character behind a slot, mind you, I say to the mercenary pirate."

"Would 'silence will fall' make you feel better?"

"That's utter nonsense" I reply, a bit affronted, while at the same time wondering exactly what could be said through a peephole in the padded wall of a psychiatric hospital that could sound sane.

"Oh, I can get a bit more cryptic, but I am afraid you wouldn't appreciate it. Suffice it to say I am here to lend you a helping hand, one you seem to need badly at present."

"Will you get me out of here? Is that your mission?"

"Mission? I haven't had a mission in years. You could say at present I am a free agent. I seek revenge upon one man in particular. Really, I shouldn't call him a man, he truly escapes the species by too many years and hearts."

Those words make my entire body react. I pull myself up with renewed energy and run to the slot, my heartbeat jumping straight to my head, making it pound so hard I must concentrate to form a coherent thought. I come close to the woman and for a moment, I consider pushing my hand through the slot to grab her by the neck, but stop myself. I'd hate for that slot to close suddenly and find me missing a hand.

"Do you know the Doctor?" I demand breathlessly.

"Know him? I'll break you out of that forsaken place and I'll give you my side of the story. I believe you and I could put a wrinkle in his plans. I know him well. He's bringing chaos to the entire Universe and he must be stopped. I believe we are of the same mind in this aspect, if my research serves me correctly?"

Out of the pan and into the fire, I think as I find myself nodding my consent.

"Call me Madame Kovarian, Prime Minister."


End file.
